


right back in my arms

by fictionalparadises



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Falling In Love, Feelings Realization, Flirting, Friends to Lovers, Idiots in Love, Internal Conflict, Love Confessions, M/M, Mutual Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-21
Updated: 2021-01-21
Packaged: 2021-03-13 01:20:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,392
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28895007
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fictionalparadises/pseuds/fictionalparadises
Summary: "I think I might be bisexual,” Karl says, and there’s something close to wonder evident in his voice.George’s mouth opens in a silent o. “You are?”“Yeah. But how do I tell Sapnap that the reason I’ve been a dick these past weeks is because I thought I was homophobic, but it turns out I’m really just upset that the guy he’s boning isn’t me?”
Relationships: Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF) (Implied), Karl Jacobs & Sapnap, Karl Jacobs/Sapnap
Comments: 24
Kudos: 1420





	right back in my arms

**Author's Note:**

> based on [that one reddit story](https://www.gaystarnews.com/article/straight-guy-worries-hes-homophobic-gay-roommate-ends-falling-love/) where this guy thought he was being homophobic, but really he'd just fallen in love with his roommate. 
> 
> not sure if i like this but yeah,,, i hope you enjoy :)

Karl likes to think he’s a good person.

He jumps out of his car to help old ladies cross the street if he sees them waiting on the sidewalk, he gives little kids free pretzels when they come in at work, he cleans the dishes in the apartment even if they aren’t his.

Bad people don’t do that. There are lots of things that fall into the bad person category, like leaving trash on the table at fast food restaurants, or abandoning shopping carts in the middle of the parking lot. Or being homophobic.

Which Karl is _not,_ he swears.

At least, that’s what he hopes. He’s never considered himself to be a judgmental person, most certainly not in regards to people’s lifestyles or preferences. Homophobic is not something he’d add to a list to describe himself.

Because he’s a good person, right?

But it’s hard to deny that Sapnap bringing together a different guy every night hasn’t started to get under his skin.

The irritation that builds in his chest every time Sapnap comes stumbling home with another guy in tow leads him to believe that Karl’s not such a good person as he initially thought. It’s not like he’s particularly interested in his best friend’s sex life—he couldn’t care less, actually. But there’s no other reason for him to be so sensitive about his roommate getting laid. He’s kind of scared that he’s tapped into a hidden reservoir of homophobia that he’d previously been blissfully unaware of having.

Only last night, Sapnap came home at twelve while Karl was working on a paper behind his desk, reeking so strongly of cheap liquor and weed that Karl could smell it in his bedroom. The front door had banged open with such force that Karl winced, knowing it’d undoubtedly leave a dent in the wall of which he had asked Sapnap to mind a million times already, and two pairs of footsteps had scuffled down the hallway, stumbling into Sapnap’s bedroom without breaking apart.

Karl had tried to bang out an essay on immersive technology, but instead he’d been forced to listen to a different type of banging entirely.

Eventually he’d grown tired of holding the wire of his earphones in a specific way to try and get them to work and he’d given up, diving face-first in bed and pulling his pillow over his head to drown out the sounds.

The lack of sleep that it results in doesn’t improve his mood the following morning, and he’s sitting at the kitchen table with his eyes still half closed as he shovels sugary cereal into his mouth.

“You look like you just rose from the dead,” Sapnap remarks as he walks in, wearing grey sweats and a shirt that’s definitely not his. He opens the blinds, and offendingly bright sunlight pours into the kitchen, bouncing off the white tiles and straight into Karl’s sleep-deprived eyes.

“I feel like it, too,” he grumbles in response. Karl thinks, a little bitterly, that Sapnap might as well have strutted in with a neon-sign saying _guess who just got laid!_ above his head. He averts his gaze to the few loops floating around in his bowl and heaves a deep sigh.

“You good?” Sapnap asks, flattening his palms on the kitchen counter and leaning a little closer. “What’re you being all grumpy for?”

“Nothing,” Karl mutters under his breath, and slings his spoon into his bowl, milk splattering on the counter. He feels the beginning of a migraine coming up and he closes his eyes for a moment. When he opens them again, Sapnap is watching him with a frown. _“What?”_

“What’s with you?” He asks, sounding taken aback by the bite in Karl’s voice.

Karl shakes his head, looking down at the sad remnants of his now soggy breakfast. “I’m going to be late for class,” he says, shouldering past Sapnap and ditching his bowl in the sink.

Without waiting for a reply—which he knows will undoubtedly come if he waits any longer, because Sapnap knows just as well as he does that he still has more than half an hour before his first lecture starts—Karl slings his backpack over his shoulder and slams the front door shut behind him.

The air outside is crisp and Karl unfurls his fists, tangling them in the sleeves of his hoodie instead. He breathes in some fresh air and finally lets go of some of the tension in his shoulders.

The thing is that he loves sharing an apartment with Sapnap—they’ve been best friends since for as long as Karl can remember, and it had been sheer luck that they got accepted into the same college. Living together had seemed like the perfect plan, and it had been exactly that for the first years—perfect.

Obviously, he hadn’t expected everything to be sunshine and rainbows. They’re students and just barely adults—he’d counted for too-loud music at ungodly hours of the night, piled-up dishes in the sink and maybe some house parties every now and then.

But then Sapnap made new friends, and they introduced him to all kinds of things that Karl did _not_ want to be associated with. Karl himself made new friends as well, though they’re completely different than Sapnap’s.

It’s a little sad, really, how much Karl dreads going home some nights because he’s never certain if Sapnap will be alone or not, and he can’t keep taking advantage of Quackity’s hospitality and crash at his place all the time.

Karl’s a very patient person. If this is Sapnap’s preferable way of spending his time, he’s free to do so—Karl just wishes he’d sometimes tone it down, just a little.

That isn’t to say that Sapnap is an obnoxiously loud person. The paper-thin walls of their two bedroom apartment just aren’t able to drown out sounds that aren’t meant for Karl’s ears, and it’s getting a little exhausting to be kept up at all hours of the night by Sapnap’s little boytoys.

So it’s not the sound that’s bothering him, and it’s not Sapnap’s sex life either.

Maybe that’s the most insufferable part of this ordeal—Karl can’t put his finger on what, exactly, _does_ bother him about it. Listening to your roommate having sex isn’t ideal, but that’s part of having roommates, he knew that going in.

Karl has spent the last few months switching between being incredibly frustrated and being immensely determined to find out what has been grinding his fucking gears so badly. Slowly, he’s come to the temporary conclusion that he’s jealous.

Jealous, of all things.

It makes sense, sort of, in a way. He’s not jealous of the number of guys Sapnap has landed in the past few months, nor is he jealous of the newfound romantics of his roommate, whatever that consists of.

He’s jealous of the attention that had previously been focused on Karl and Karl only, and has now been reduced to only a small amount, the rest reserved for the flings that Sapnap brings home.

And being jealous is at least something he can work with—being jealous isn’t weird, after all. It’s pretty normal to feel a little left behind when you’ve spent the first years of college joined at the hip and now barely seeing your best friend more than three times a week. Yeah, that’s normal.

He hopes it is, anyway.

Yet even with the normalcy of those emotions, and the explanation of those feelings, there’s still that stupid fucking itch inside his chest that flares to life at merely the thought of Sapnap coming home with someone else tonight.

Karl plops down on the cold bench at the bus stop with an annoyed huff and fishes his phone out of his pocket.

 _You working tonight?_ He texts Quackity, who immediately replies with,

_Obviously, can’t trust you with the closing shift alone_

_Oh so it was my fault that an entire cannister of matcha powder exploded all over the ground last week?_

_Shut up._

Their little exchange leaves Karl a little lighter than he was before, and he gets to his feet, hopping on the bus. When he sinks down on one of the padded chairs, he promises himself that he’ll talk to Quackity about his problem tonight.

Maybe someone with an outside perspective will have a different view on the situation.

⁂

“Okay, I have a question,” Karl starts later that afternoon. He’s gotten through his classes with painful slowness, nearly falling asleep during one of his lectures and feverishly overthinking during the others.

“Give it your all,” Quackity says from where he is perched on top of the counter, hands pushed underneath his thighs, beanie shoved over his hair. His brown Jamba Juice apron is haphazardly slung around his neck, the material reaching to past his knees.

“So…” Karl gnaws on his thumbnail, trying to think of other ways to say _Sapnap’s bringing home a different guy to hook up with every night and it’s driving me up the wall, but I’m pretty sure it’s not the hooking-up part that’s bothering me, so it must be the guy-part. Does that mean I’m homophobic?_

Quackity raises his eyebrows in question at the stretching silence.

“I have a… gay related question. I think.” Karl frowns.

“Oh.” Quackity looks at him for a second, then lets out a loud laugh. “Am I finally witnessing your gay awakening? Your sexuality storm has finally come to rest?”

Karl smacks him with the rag in his hands. “Oh my god, shut up.” Then he continues to thoughtfully wipe down the counter, trying to think of ways to best phrase his question. “Okay, so I told you about the thing with my roommate, right?”

“That he’s being a dick sometimes? Most of the time?” Quackity asks, unfiltered.

Karl groans, cheeks heating. “Yeah, basically. So—”

“I don’t think he’s gonna want assless chaps for his birthday, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“What? No!” Karl calls out, staring at Quackity dumbfounded. “I already bought his birthday gift, what are you—okay, anyway, it’s just… have I ever been homophobic?”

Quackity’s eyes widen as he nearly chokes on a breath. “You? Dude, you’re like, the least homophobic person I know.”

“That’s… yeah, I thought so too, but now I just… I don’t know.” Karl sighs deeply and flings the rag in the sink, fingers fumbling with the tied strings of his apron.

“Did something happen?” Quackity asks, his voice taking on an edge of seriousness.

Karl shrugs, hoping that the faint blush on his cheeks isn’t too obvious. “I don’t know, I uh… Sapnap’s been bringing guys home pretty often since the start of the semester and it’s starting to get on my nerves.” He hesitates, considering his next words.

Quackity raises his brows, awaiting.

“Okay—I don’t know why it bothers me so much. I can’t seem to figure it out. I feel like it might be because they’re guys, but that sounds absolutely terrible and makes me look like an asshole. It’s just that he’s… flaunting that he’s doing _that_ with _them_ , in _our_ apartment, and he’s just throwing it in my face? An apartment we picked together, and decorated together, mind you—”

“Karl,” Quackity interrupts him, “breathe.”

Karl sucks in a breath before letting it out in a shuddering exhale. Then he drops his head. “I just feel like such a dick, you know?”

“If anyone’s a dick, it’s probably him. For not thinking about his roommate.” Quackity clicks his tongue, looking at the wall behind Karl for a moment in contemplative silence. When he meets Karl’s gaze again, he tilts his head. “Do you want me to be honest with you? No-jokes, I’ll-be-a-hundred-percent-serious type of honest?”

“Please,” is all Karl responds with.

Quackity nods slowly. “Okay, so… homophobic isn’t really the word I’d use to describe the situation, I think.” He squints an eye at Karl. “But you may be feeling another kind of homo, for sure.”

“That is—that makes zero sense and it’s in no way helpful. What even is that supposed to mean?” Karl asks, exasperated. “You promised you’d be serious!”

Quackity throws his hands in the air in defense. “I _am_ being serious! I promise! Just… hear me out, okay?” At Karl’s grumpy nod, he continues, though a little more careful this time, “You just said that seeing Sapnap sleep with all those guys, or knowing he does, makes you super uncomfortable. Because… you think you’re jealous.”

“It _is_ uncomfortable!” Karl calls out, pushing the hair out of his eyes in a distressed manner. “The other day I got home early from class and he was making out on the couch with some chad! I was so embarrassed that it took me two days to look him in the eye normally again!”

The front door swings open with a loud jingle, and barely a split second, the voice of their boss booms through the air. “Alexis, I better not catch you sitting on your ass again!”

Quackity’s eyes widen and he jumps off the counter immediately, readjusting his beanie as he turns around, a dazzling smile appearing on his face. “Of course not. I’d _never_.”

Karl huffs out a breath, restacking the plastic cups next to the register with a sour expression on his face. Quackity squeezes his shoulder reassuringly.

“We’ll talk about this later, yeah?”

⁂

They end up exactly not doing that. The night shift ends up being busier than usual and by the time Karl’s locking the front door behind him, they’re both too tired to even think about having a serious conversation.

He heads home with one last wave Quackity’s way and, as he gets closer to his apartment, he furiously hopes that Sapnap won’t be home, or if he is, that he’s already gone to bed.

No such luck—Sapnap is sitting on the couch when he stumbles through the door, watching tv and shoveling leftover spaghetti bolognese into his mouth. He looks up at the sound of keys jangling and greets Karl with a grin. “What’s up, nimrod?”

“Tired,” Karl mumbles, dropping his backpack to the ground and curling up in the arm chair next to the couch.

Sapnap raises his brows, offended, as he pats the space next to him. “No _hello Sapnap, I’ve missed you dearly?_ No good-day kisses? Just sitting ten feet away from me? Sure,” he huffs out, feigning insult, cradling the tupperware closer to his chest. “I was gonna share my spaghetti with you, but I guess not, then.”

Karl, despite himself, lets out a stupid giggle at that. He hates how easily it comes, and he hates even more how warm his chest gets at the words. It’s always been like this—the banter, the flirting, the jokes. Like this, it’s easy to forget about the feelings that have been forming a blockade in his lungs.

“You know I only kiss you if you ask nicely.”

Sapnap puts down his bowl, folds his hands together and turns to Karl with a pout. “Can I have a kiss, please?”

Karl gets to his feet in a smooth motion and moves to walk away. “Hm,” he hums. “Maybe next time.”

“What!”

He laughs as he walks into the kitchen, pulling open the fridge and staring at the contents inside. He’s kind of hungry, but he doesn’t feel like actually making anything, and the idea of cereal for the hundredth time today is just revolting. “No… _guests_ today?” He asks over his shoulder, because he can’t help it.

“No,” Sapnap calls back, eyes glued to the tv again. “Got some deadlines due tonight.”

“Nice to be able to sleep in peace and quiet,” Karl murmurs under his breath at that, kicking the fridge shut with his foot.

A slight frown appears on Sapnap’s face at that and his head snaps to Karl, who reenters the living room with just a glass of water. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

There’s a sudden tension that wasn’t there before, and Karl wants to smack himself in the face for not just letting it be. “Nothing,” he says. “I’m off to bed. Good night.”

Before Sapnap can get out a reply, he’s already bolted into his bedroom, the door slamming shut so fast that it rattles in its hinges.

Karl is such an idiot sometimes.

⁂

There’s a note on the fridge the next morning. Sapnap had an 8am and left at the ass crack of dawn, trying his hardest to be quiet, but Karl had heard him stumble through the apartment nonetheless, hardwood floor creaking when he walked past Karl’s room.

_Dinner together tonight? I’ll make fried rice :D_

Karl stares at the post-it, trying to ignore the smile creeping onto his face. Then he turns on his feet and gets ready for school.

He finds himself looking forward to it, which is kind of ridiculous, but now that he’s thinking about it, he can’t remember the last time they actually had dinner together. At first, assignments and deadlines started getting in the way, and then Sapnap had… more important business to tend to, Karl supposes.

Karl returns in the early afternoon, swinging open the front door and already undoing his backpack when he freezes in his tracks, hand still on the door knob. Faintly, he can hear moans coming from the bedroom.

He turns on his feet and walks right back out.

Quackity replies to his text almost immediately and tells him that he’s welcome to crash at his place anytime.

Maybe it’s the immense disappointment Karl feels, or maybe it’s the stupid homophobia bubbling up again, but there’s tears of frustration burning behind his eyelids as he makes his way to Quackity’s apartment.

Whatever. He doesn’t like fried rice anyways.

⁂

Karl barely sets a foot in the lecture hall before he’s spinning on his heel and exiting as fast as he arrived. The couch he slept on wasn’t necessarily uncomfortable but there’s a crick in his neck that hurts and he just wants a hot shower and a nap before he has to work this afternoon.

If there’s any God up there, they must hate him, because Karl runs into Sapnap the moment he gets to their apartment.

“Aren’t you supposed to be in class?” Karl asks, too tired to pretend to be anything other than annoyed.

Sapnap shot up from the couch when he heard the front door unlock, and he’s now standing in the middle of the living room with his lips parted and brows raised. “Where were you?” He asks, dodging Karl’s question.

“Slept at Quackity’s,” he replies, shrugging off his backpack. It lands on the floor with a loud thump. He considered sending Sapnap a text last night to let him know he was staying over at someone else’s, but Sapnap never does that either, so he’d let his phone battery die while he stared at the ceiling of Quackity’s living room, fingers tangled behind his head.

“Dude, I was—” Sapnap cuts himself off, dragging a hand through his hair. “I thought we were gonna have dinner together last night.”

“Yeah,” Karl retorts sharply, “I thought so too.”

Sapnap watches, a little baffled, as he walks past. “What—what’s been up with you lately? You’re acting all weird.”

He probably can’t get away with another _I’m just tired,_ and he closes his eyes for a moment. “Sorry,” he mumbles then, “Just been stressed out, with finals coming up and all.”

“Oh.” He opens his eyes when there’s footsteps coming towards him, and a warm hand lands on his shoulder. “You know you can talk to me, right? I won’t bite. Unless you ask me to, obviously.” There’s a stupid grin on Sapnap’s face, and Karl’s cheeks burn. “No, but seriously. You’ll be fine. You’re gonna kick those finals straight into orbit, I know it.”

Karl dares to give him a watery smile. “Thanks, Sapnap,” he says.

He feels like a bad enough person as it is. Adding more guilt to the list of emotions he feels wouldn’t make anything better.

He slips into his bedroom before Sapnap can say anything else.

⁂

Quackity is just explaining the plot of a bad Mexican soap opera he watched last night when the door busts open and George comes rushing in.

“Hey, man,” Quackity greets him with a nod as George takes a seat at the bar, precariously balancing on a stool as he struggles to get his jacket off.

“What are you doing here?” Karl asks with a frown, dropping the sharpie he’d been fumbling with.

George slams his card on the counter. “Moral support.” He jerks his chin to Quackity. “I got called in.”

Quackity pushes his card back and waves it off, grabbing a clear cup. “I figured if anyone could tell if you were being homophobic, it’d be George.”

“Seriously?” George rolls his eyes. “I’m not the only one who’s been with guys, _Quackity—”_

“I made out with him _once!_ And don’t forget that I was extremely—”

Karl heaves a sigh and pushes Quackity towards the other side of the counter, where he begrudgingly starts on a mango smoothie for George, muttering to himself in a mixture of rapid Spanish and English.

George flashes him an appreciative smile and slaps both hands down on the counter. “So. Tell me all about it.”

Karl tells him the exact same story as he told Quackity, quickly going through the notions of everything that happened. When he’s finished, George is regarding him with an undecipherable look as he sips from his drink.

“Right.” George clears his throat. “You said that you’re jealous?”

“Yeah,” Karl huffs, “but like. Jealous of the attention. That’s what I meant.”

George exchanges a silent glance with Quackity that Karl is too exasperated for to try and understand. “Have you ever considered the fact that it might be, I don’t know, a different type of jealousy? And I don’t mean that you’re jealous that he’s getting laid and you’re not, either.”

Karl stares at him for a moment. “I still don’t get it.”

“Christ. I mean this in the most loving way possible, but Karl, you’re the most oblivious person I’ve ever met.” George shakes his head.

Puffing out a breath, Karl frowns, “I’m not getting any smarter here. Just spit it out, will you?”

“You don’t care that Sapnap’s sleeping with guys, you care that they’re not _you_ ,” George states plainly.

Karl does a double-take. “What?” He doesn’t need a mirror to know that his face is bright red right now, cheeks flaming red.

“Have you ever considered the fact that, well, maybe you’re not… straight?” George asks carefully, eyes searching his.

“I—I don’t know,” Karl stammers, feeling embarrassed and put on the spot and most of all _confused_. “I don’t know, okay!”

“Hey.” George’s voice is soft and calm, smooth in a way that it’s quietly demanding for him to look up. Karl hesitantly meets George’s gaze. “You know you don’t have to put a label on anything, right? And that it’s okay not to know. It’s not something that you can only decide once for the rest of your life.”

When Karl glances at Quackity, he gets a small smile in return, and it’s one made of slow reassurance. “I—You think I’m grossed out by Sapnap bringing guys home because I’m jealous of them? The guys? You’re saying that I might have a crush on him?”

“Yes,” George and Quackity reply in unison.

A simple and direct answer. That’s at least something Karl can work with.

But he’s not sure if it’s something he can _actually_ work with.

The talk leaves him so disoriented that Quackity sends him home early, telling him he’ll be fine by himself and that if Karl so much as takes one step towards the back he’ll kick his ass. So he walks with George to his bus stop, tucking himself deeper into his jacket and stuffing his hands in the warm spot under his armpits.

As they wait for the bus to arrive, George says, “You don’t have to rush finding out your sexuality. It’s complicated, so don’t… don’t force yourself into a label because you think you need to. Just take your time.”

Karl smiles at him appreciatively. “Thanks, George. It really means a lot.”

“Of course.” George smiles back, and Karl waits until he’s hopped into the bus before turning around.

He’s exhausted, but he still makes a detour, stopping at Subway and hoping that it will be enough of a peace offering to make Sapnap smile.

The outside air is cold and he watches his breath cloud in front of him as he trudges home, tugging on the straps of his backpack. His mind is swarming with thoughts that he can’t seem to organize and it almost dizzies him.

What if they’re right? What if George and Quackity are right and he’s actually not straight?

More importantly, if that’s truly the case, how on god’s green earth was he stupid enough to assume it was hate instead of attraction?

As he jogs up the stairs, backpack hitting his back, he thinks over the only question that probably actually matters: if, hypothetically, he is not straight, and if, hypothetically, he is in love with his best friend—how does said best friend feel about him?

He swings open the door and manages to catch it just in time so it doesn’t slam against the wall. But by the time he makes it to the kitchen counter and drops the sandwiches on the surface, his mood has plummeted and instead he feels bitter disappointment on his tongue.

Sapnap’s not home.

And perhaps that says everything he needs to know about how said best friend feels about him.

⁂

Karl can’t seem to fall asleep, the ceiling taking up most of his attention, but when he finally does, he dreams of intertwined hands, shared sandwiches in the middle of the night and waking up to soft kisses being peppered all over his face.

⁂

It’s been a few days, and Karl has been thinking and overthinking for all of them. The tension at the apartment is strange, sometimes so thick that Karl imagines himself grabbing it right out of the air and throwing it out the window. Sapnap spends half the time away and half the time bringing other people home, now barely thinking of keeping it quiet anymore.

Karl has heard him _moan_. Not just once. 

And it’s _infuriating_.

He texts George one afternoon with, _hey do you wanna grab dinner tonight?_

_Sure :) what’s up?_

_Need to talk,_ he replies, and it’s the truth.

They meet up at George’s favorite restaurant, a little bistro tucked away between large company buildings, and George lets Karl rant about that one professor from his class that he hates because ‘he’s always so stuck-up about everything’, humming in acknowledgement every now and then, knowing Karl is ranting because he’s nervous. 

Once they get their food, George slides his cutlery out of the paper package and raises his brows. “Okay. So what did you want to talk about?”

“Uhm—” Karl swallows hard, feeling his cheeks heat a little. Now is probably the time to get serious, and there’s no good reason for him to jump around it. “So here’s the thing. I think—I think I might be bisexual.” There’s something close to wonder evident in his voice.

George’s mouth opens in a silent o. “You are?”

“Yeah. But how do I tell Sapnap that the reason I’ve been a dick these past weeks is because I thought I was homophobic, but it turns out I’m really just upset that the guy he’s boning isn’t me?”

George nearly chokes on his water and he puts his glass down with shaky hands, coughing loudly. “Oh, gods—” Once he’s caught his breath, he wipes away the tears at his eyes and looks at Karl. “Wait, you actually think you’re bisexual?”

Karl nods a little hesitantly. George reaches over to squeeze his hand and smiles. “That’s—that’s good, Karl. I’m really proud of you.”

He mirrors George’s expression with a small smile of his own. “Thanks.”

“And about the Sapnap thing—I think you should tell him exactly that.”

“What?” Karl’s eyes widen. “I’m not telling him that I like him. He doesn’t even like me back that way, I’d rather die, thanks.”

George rolls his eyes. “What are you talking about? Of course he likes you back.”

His spaghetti is slowly cooling down in front of him, but he’s not sure if he even could swallow a bite if he tried, with the way his heart is slamming against his ribcage. “If he did—which he does _not_ , mind you—then why is he bringing different guys home every week?”

George’s fork clinks against his plate as he sets it down and folds his hands in front of him. “Karl… you’re as thick as it gets.”

“I don’t even know what that means,” Karl says, frenzied.

“As far as Sapnap knows, you’re straight. You dated that one girl for like a year when you were a freshman, remember? So he doesn’t know. And if there’s one reason he’s shagging half the campus, it’s because he thinks you’re not reciprocating his feelings,” George explains like it’s obvious.

“That’s a stretch.”

George rolls his eyes again, throwing him a pointed look. “It’s not. And even if it was, it’s not for nothing that Dream some days comes home complaining about how Sapnap refuses to shut up about you. Like, he just doesn’t stop talking about you. Ever.” Karl’s cheeks turn crimson and he opens his mouth to say something, but before he can, George continues, “And why do you think Sapnap went to this college? He got accepted into RU but chose to go here, all because he could move in with you then.”

Hearing it like this, it makes sense, but—

“That’s impossible,” Karl decides, trying to reason against the logic. “He can’t like me back.”

“Why not?” George shrugs, looking at Karl from over the brim of his glass as he takes a sip. “Of course he can. He _does.”_

Karl stares at George with a slightly baffled expression, and thinks maybe if he keeps looking long enough that he’ll start to believe it. “Do you—do you think I should tell him?”

George inclines his head and regards Karl with a scrutinizing gaze, somehow calming and unsettling at the same time. “I think you should,” he says slowly. “I think you should talk to him about it. You’re not getting anywhere by burying this.”

He has a point. As always.

“It can be annoying sometimes, you know,” Karl huffs out. “That you’re always right.”

George laughs at that, the sound echoing through the air, and Karl smiles.

He’s grateful for his friend nonetheless.

⁂

Karl spends one more night at Quackity’s to try and avoid the inevitable, but he has no choice to go home before his classes start.

The moment he opens the front door, Sapnap jumps up from the couch and calls, “Dude, where _were_ you?”

He stops in his tracks, frowning slightly. “I… was at Quackity’s. Why?”

Something hard sets in Sapnap’s gaze at that, jaw ticking. “I was worried. You couldn’t have texted?”

“Well, I don’t know, I didn’t think of it,” Karl grinds out, voice annoyed. Maybe it’s because he’s nervous, or because he knows that he’ll have to tell Sapnap at one point, but he finds himself getting agitated, skin itching. “Why do you even care?”

Sapnap lets out a breathy laugh. “Why do I care? What are you talking about? Of course I care.” He shakes his head and drags a hand across his face. “Literally what has been up with you for the past weeks? First you’re acting all weird, then you ditch me for dinner, and now this—”

“You’re blaming me?” Karl’s eyes widen in offense. “Maybe if you didn’t spend every free minute with someone else—”

Sapnap scoffs. “You’re not even home half the time—”

“Why do you think that is?” Karl fumes. “You’re the one bringing your stupid little hags home every fucking week!”

At his outburst, Sapnap stares at him with raised brows, clearly insulted. “Oh, so now you’re blaming _me?”_

Karl opens his mouth, but Sapnap beats him to it.

“Why do you care so much about my sex life in the first place? What’s it to you?” He folds his arms over his chest. “If it’s bothering you, you could’ve just said—”

“Of course it’s bothering me!” Karl cries out, tugging on one of the lost strands of his hair.

Sapnap waves his hands around wildly, exasperated, annoyed. “Why?”

_“Because I’m in love with you!”_

Silence. Sapnap whips his head towards him, eyes widening, mouth agape. Karl can feel the world swaying beneath his feet, hands shaking, face distorting as realization creeps in. Oh gods, what did he _do—_

“What?” Sapnap’s voice is a little shaky, the word stammered.

Karl stares at him for a split second, then snatches his bag from the ground and spins on his heel.

“Karl, wait!” He hears behind him, but he sprints down the stairs, taking two steps at the time, and doesn’t stop until he’s outside.

⁂

A moment of clarity can come during the most unexpected moments, like when he’s absent-mindedly listening to Quackity’s rant about his shitty computer and making a mango-a-go-go smoothie for a customer at the same time. He nearly drops the cup—Quackity catches it just in time—and they share a moment of bewildered eye contact before he’s untying his apron like his life depends on it.

“Go,” Quackity says, rolling his eyes. “I’ll cover for you.”

Karl presses a kiss to Quackity’s cheek before he can object, then turns around and leaves his shift an hour early.

⁂

He comes home bearing more Subway in his arms. Sapnap’s gaze burns on the back of his neck as he silently walks into the kitchen and disposes the sandwiches on the kitchen counter.

“Can we talk?” He quietly starts, shifting his weight from one foot to the other.

“I was hoping the same, actually,” Sapnap says, patting the spot next to him.

Karl sits down and holds his breath for a moment. Then he blows out a long sigh, refusing to meet Sapnap’s eyes. “Okay, I’ll—I’ll explain. Please just don’t interrupt me.”

Sapnap nods. Karl shuffles a little farther away, too nervous to be so close to him.

“I don’t know why it started getting on my nerves, randomly,” Karl tells him. “Like, you’ve been hooking up with guys since our first year of college, so I was pretty confused as to why now, all of a sudden, it started to get under my skin. Then I thought I was just being homophobic, and a little jealous of the fact that you were getting laid and I wasn’t.”

Sapnap opens his mouth, but Karl holds up his hand.

“I thought I was annoyed because it was dudes fucking other dudes, hence the homophobia, you know, it made me so uncomfortable and grossed out to think about what you were doing in the room next to mine. But then I kinda realized that it’s bothering me so much because you’re fucking dudes that aren’t _me_ , and that made me act even weirder towards you, and I understand if you hate me because of this but I can’t stand the fact that you’d rather sleep with everyone on the campus than with me, and it’s unfair, because I want to be the guy you’re sleeping with, all the time, every day—” Karl cuts himself off and takes a deep breath. “Sorry,” he mumbles, wringing his hands nervously.

At last, he looks up to meet Sapnap’s gaze. He has an odd expression on his face that changes from something like pained surprise to confusion to slow realization.

“You idiot,” Sapnap murmurs. “You absolute _nimrod.”_

Karl blinks. “That’s not quite fair.”

Sapnap just looks at him, searching his face as though he’s analyzing every detail that gives him away. “You said you were in love with me,” he says, angling his head and squinting an eye. “Is it true?”

His heart is beating tattoos inside his ribcage and Karl’s fingers are shaking so badly he thinks he couldn’t lift a glass of water if he wanted to, but he manages to nod.

“You’re in love with me,” Sapnap states, though it’s more like he’s tasting the words on his tongue rather than saying them to Karl again. Still, Karl nods.

Before he can do anything, Sapnap tangles his fingers in the fabric of Karl’s shirt and hauls him in by his collar, pressing his lips against his own.

The kiss is soft, exploratory, and more than anything Karl could’ve ever hoped for.

He can almost _feel_ as it all clicks into place in his head, the storm that had been weathering for weeks now finally coming to a rest. All that’s left is the soothing summer rain, watery rays of sunshine breaking through the clouds at last.

Sapnap pushes Karl back on the couch by his shoulders, the kiss turning more demanding. Karl feels the soft cotton of Sapnap’s hoodie under his fingers, trails the strong muscles underneath the fabric, tries to take it all in in case he wakes up any minute.

They pull apart, breathless, panting. Sapnap’s eyes are bright, twinkling in the yellow light from the lamp on the side table. The tv is still on, washing one side of his face in changing colors. He’s so beautiful it almost hurts, and Karl lifts his hand to brush his fingers through the soft strands of Sapnap’s hair.

Sapnap splits into a grin, catching Karl’s hand mid-way and pressing a kiss to the inside of his palm.

“You’re in love with me,” he says again.

Karl huffs out a breath. “Yes, I think we’ve established that fact by now.”

Sapnap intertwines their fingers. It almost aches, the way they slot together perfectly. Karl’s heart clumsily stumbles over a beat, cheeks warming as he looks at their hands. Then Sapnap lifts his chin with his index fingers and kisses him again.

“I’m in love with you too,” Sapnap murmurs in between kisses.

Karl thinks they might be the prettiest words he’s ever heard.

**Author's Note:**

> ushy mushy ending bc i can't help it lol
> 
> leave a comment or come talk to me on twitter/tumblr @sundaycore <33


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